


Hooked (Addicted You Might Say)

by Bardling



Series: Tinker Bell/Captain Hook Geraskier AU [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Sex, Begging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Captain Hook!Geralt, Choking, Consensual Sex, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub Undertones, Fae & Fairies, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Hair-pulling, M/M, Marking, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pirate Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pixie Hollow, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication, Sub Jaskier | Dandelion, Tinker Bell!Jaskier, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, pixie dust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling
Summary: Geralt hums, then opens the door. “Come here, I want to get a good look at you. I’ve never seen a real fairy before.” He says, backing up to let Jaskier out. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. We’ll treat you right, we just need you to make that dust for us.” He adds, sitting down in a plush chair behind the wooden desk.The captain pats his knee and Jaskier has no idea why, but he complies and follows Geralt. He stands next to the desk hesitantly, his hands clasped behind his back. There’s no way he’s going to nuzzle up to the man who just bardnapped him.“Oh c’mon, you can come closer than that. I won’t bite… unless you want me to.” Geralt says, winking at Jaskier before grabbing his slim bicep and pulling him closer. He sits the smaller man down on his lap and studies his face now that the gap between them is closed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tinker Bell/Captain Hook Geraskier AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095269
Comments: 37
Kudos: 465





	Hooked (Addicted You Might Say)

Jaskier huffs and wrinkles his nose, kicking at a rock as he sits on the edge of the creek bed. He’s _supposed_ to be collecting water to put out for the upcoming full moon, but he’s so _bored_. It’s the same thing every day. He’s stuck in the same old forest with the same old job, around the same old people. He wants to see the world! He wants to meet new people!

“Triss, do you ever get tired of always being in Oxen Hollow?” Jaskier asks his friend, a nature-talent fairy with curly brown hair and warm, light brown skin.

“Of course not, Dandelion. It’s amazing here, why do you ask?” Triss replies, setting her glass collection bottles down to look at him curiously.

Jaskier sighs. That’s what everyone here calls him. _Dandelion_. It was fine at first because that’s precisely what he was born from, a baby’s first laugh and a white dandelion seed. But he’s grown to hate the name, especially after stupid fucking Valdo Marx made him a laughing stock because “dandelions are weeds.” No one took him seriously when he said he’d rather be called Jaskier.

‘Oh Dandelion, we don’t get to change the name that Queen Clarion gave us!’ His friends had laughed, which made him drop the subject all together.

“It’s not that I don’t like it here.. I do, really. It’s just that… well, I want _more_. I want to see the world and other forests. I want to see the ocean and sing my new songs to the new people I meet.” Jaskier muses, slowly getting out of his slump as he talks about his dreams.

Triss gives him a small, yet chastising smile. “But Oxen Hollow has everything you could ever need, Dandelion. And there’s so much danger outside our forest, that’s why Queen Clarion has rules that we must follow.” She says, then chuckles airily. “Besides, you’re a _tinker fairy_ , not a music playing fairy!” She adds, clearly amused by her own words.

Jaskier looks down and kicks another rock. So much for getting out of his slump.

He should’ve known she’d say something like that. It’s not that Triss is a bad friend, it’s just that she thinks differently than Jaskier does. Everyone in Oxen Hollow thinks differently than he does.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He says dejectedly, staring at his reflection in the crystal clear creek water. 

‘Everything here is too… perfect.’ He thinks, unable to think of a single thing he’s ever seen out of place.

Other than himself.

It’s there at the creek bed that Jaskier comes up with his plan. 

He’s going to leave Oxen Hollow once and for all. He’s going to explore the world and meet all kinds of new friends. He’s going to be a _musician_.

Jaskier leaves the creek with Triss once she finishes collecting water and a few flowers for some herbal remedy someone asked her for. She told him the name of it, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He’s too busy formulating his plan, his way to start a new life.

He decides that the night of the full moon is the best night to do it. Everyone will be busy taking part in their own rituals and traditions to notice that he’s gone. By the time they do, Jaskier will be long gone on his journey.

In the days leading up to the full moon, he prepares his bag for all the things he’ll want or need. He starts with the basics like food, water, and clothes. He prepares small meals that he knows are nutritious, wrapping them in a large leaf to keep them from spoiling in his bag. He puts several bottles of pre-collected water in there as well, knowing he can always refill them whenever he finds a water source.

After the essentials, he packs his favorite things. Including his prized lute that he made all by himself. It’s carved from the wood of the tree on the furthest edge of Oxen Hollow, the one closest to the outside world that he desperately yearns to see. He even made a little strap for it so that he can wear it on his back or by his side. 

And of course he packs his notebooks that he bound himself. What else would he write his songs in?

He’s finally ready after days of preparing and checking to make sure he’s prepared. Then checking again. And revising his plan to sneak out. By the time the sun is starting to set before the full moon, he’s got full confidence in himself and his plan.

Jaskier changes into clothes that look nothing like the drab tinker fairy ones he used to have to wear. Instead, he’s wearing an outfit that he sewed himself. In fact, all the clothes he packed are items he made himself. They’re all very colorful and bright, tailored to accentuate his body rather than make it look the same as everyone else’s.

Once he’s changed, he masks his smell with a subtle floral perfume that he made. To anyone smelling it, it’s just as if the wind has caught the aroma of a patch of wildflowers. Inconspicuous and perfect.

He exits his house through his back door and in his disguise, makes his way to the very far end of Oxen Hollow. Jaskier takes extra care in being quiet, but quick as he makes his way through the dark woods. If he didn’t have a one track mind, he’d be freaked out by the noises of the wildlife behind him. 

But everything disappears when he reaches the unassuming cluster of raspberry bushes. The bushes that hide the door to the world. 

He found the door the day he gathered the wood for his lute. At the time, he was far too scared to even touch it. But now… now he’s ready.

Jaskier grips the strap of his lute tightly in one hand and opens the wooden door with his other. Without even a glance behind him, he steps through the threshold and into the rest of the world.

***

One thing that took Jaskier by surprise as he started navigating his way through this new territory was the fact that not everyone has a specialty. There aren’t water fairies here. Or nature fairies. Jaskier isn’t sure if there’s even fairies at all. 

It’s not so different, he realizes. There’s people called ‘blacksmiths’ who are a lot like tinker fairies, but with metal. And people called ‘farmers’ who own animals and gather crops for food. Some people have specialties that help with their jobs, but not all. Some people are, well… just people. And Jaskier loves that about them. 

He learned pretty quickly that the majority of these people in his new world are called ‘humans.’ Humans are quite different from fairies in Jaskier’s book. Their bodies don’t look all that different, but their ears are rounder and their noses tend to be bigger. They don’t have wings at all, which means they can’t fly. And Jaskier assumes they don’t have magic either, because he’s never seen a human use it before.

It’s been three years since Jaskier left Oxen Hollow, and he’s found his way to a place called Posada (which is a hamlet in a kingdom called Dol Blathanna, he learned from some kind children who were playing in the street). 

That’s another thing he learned. Children are humans, but much smaller and younger. They tend to laugh and smile more too. Jaskier had to adjust his size when he came out the other side of the door, because humans are much bigger than fairies. He never knew he was just the size of a bug compared to them!

But now he’s human sized and sitting in a human bar. Well… standing. And singing. Since leaving Oxen Hollow, Jaskier has made a tiny name for himself. No one knows him as Dandelion anymore. He’s just Jaskier, a guy who sings and plays the lute. He’s what humans call a ‘bard’. He thinks that’s a funny word, but he likes it. Jaskier the bard. 

After figuring out what exactly it is that bards do, Jaskier decided to start playing music for patrons in taverns. He was very awkward at first, but has slowly been gaining more confidence. It wasn’t that he was ever really self conscious before, he’s just learning a new skill.

Jaskier has also made a bit of money from singing in taverns, which he thinks is quite neat. He loves counting all of his shiny coins at the end of the night.

Singing is exactly what he’s doing here in Posada, actually. He’s found a nice little tavern by the ocean (which he fully intends to explore later)... only the people inside don’t seem to be appreciating his singing very much this time. They’re starting to yell and get irritated, and a few are shouting insults at him. 

“Oi, fuck off!” Jaskier shouts back when a table of people start throwing bread at him.

He heard the tavern door open earlier, but didn’t think anything of it. 

That is, until the whole room goes silent. His back is to the door, so he turns around to see what or who rendered so many people speechless. What he sees makes him bust out laughing. 

Standing just inside the door are three men, one of which is clearly the leader of the group. The one standing at the front has long white hair that is tied back out of his face. He’s wearing clothing that Jaskier has never seen before. He has a long black coat on that seems to be leather and has buttons going down from the lapels to knee height. Under his coat is a tight black shirt-like thing that Jaskier assumes is also leather. It seems to cover about as much skin as it shows, because he can see much of the man’s skin and chest hair from the way it’s cut. The stranger also has tight black pants on, matching leather boots, and a large belt.

It’s the accessories and the man’s eyes that really draw Jaskier in. He has two large swords, one of which resembles a hook because it curves rather than being straight like the other one. And his eyes are golden, like melting rays of sun.

The other men are also dressed in black, but their outfits are far more simple. They’re wearing far less leather, but seem to have similar pants. One has dark hair and scars that go up one side of his face. The other has a few smaller scars on his face, but hair that is closer to a shade of red. 

“Well, are you just going to stand there like a shadowy mountain or are you going to comment on my singing?” Jaskier asks, flashing the three men a cheeky grin. 

One of the patrons beside him jabs him in the side roughly. “Are you mad, boy?! It’s in ye best interest to stay quiet like the rest of us.” He says, fear evident in his tone and facial expression. 

Jaskier doesn’t understand, so he whispers back to the man. “What, can they not talk or something? Or should I choose a different language?”

The three men take a few steps closer to Jaskier, their eyes calculating.

The patron swallows audibly and looks at the bard with wide eyes. “That’s Geralt of Rivia. Better known as Captain Hook. Him and his pirates will leave you wishing you had never spoken to them like that…” He says, quickly scurrying away to the opposite side of the room.

The white haired man, Geralt, turns to Jaskier. “What’s your name?” He asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Jaskier.” He answers simply, still not understanding who this man is or why everyone is so scared of him.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, raising an eyebrow at the smaller man. “Where are you from, Jaskier? Certainly not Posada or Dol Blathanna, because they all know very well who I am.”

“Neverland.” Jaskier answers, going out of his way to not specify _where_ in Neverland he’s from.

The Captain’s two men make eye contact with each other when they hear what Jaskier says.

“We got us one all the way from Neverland, boys.” Geralt says to his men, then barks out a laugh. “Lambert, Eskel… Tell me, what has pointy ears, smells like sugary flowers, and comes from Neverland?” He asks.

The one with reddish hair pipes up. “Oh I know! Fairies, boss.” He says, and Jaskier suddenly gets the feeling that this is going to get very bad very quickly. 

The darker haired man rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t be such a dunce, Lambert.” He says, which makes Jaskier realize who is who.

“Fairies indeed.” The Captain says, walking up to Jaskier until he’s looking down at him. He’s a good four or so inches taller than the bard, and much more muscular. If he didn’t currently feel threatened, Jaskier would definitely be eyeing this mountain of a man up 

Actually… Yeah, the threat isn’t stopping him at all.

“Well… my men and I originally came here to loot this tavern of its coin, but a fairy being here changes a lot… You see, pixie dust is in high demand these days. And there’s only one source to get it from.” Geralt says, smiling wolfishly. 

“Boys, grab him and put him on the ship. The holding cell in my quarters. We’ve just struck a gold mine and I don’t want him going _anywhere_.” He adds, quickly grabbing Jaskier by the shirt and shoving him towards Lambert and Eskel. 

Jaskier tries to run, but he’s not used to doing that in this bigger body and he stumbles over his feet. The two large pirates take him by both arms easily, lifting him up like he weighs nothing. He thrashes and squirms and yells, but their grips are like iron around his thin arms.

“Fight all y’want, but you’re not gettin’ free. You’re gonna be our money maker, but don’t worry little fairy… The cell in the Cap’ns room is the most luxurious one!” The man on his left, Eskel, barks out with a deep laugh. 

“Unhand me, you dirty beasts! I’m not going to help anyone when you’re being so brutish and rude!” Jaskier shouts, still squirming and fighting in their hold. 

Lambert and Eskel just laugh as they haul Jaskier onto their ship, so high and easily that the bard’s feet aren’t even touching the wood planks of the ship floor. 

They carry him through a door and up a flight of stairs. It’s dark, so Jaskier can’t really see where or what anything is. Soon though, they reach another door that is illuminated by two torches on either side. The men open the door and carry him inside, none too nicely. 

Lambert releases his arm to open the cell door, which makes a loud creaking sound as he does. Jaskier tenses and cringes, the sound grating to his sensitive ears. He barely has time to recover before he’s being thrown into the cell, landing on the hard wooden floor with a thud. 

“Ow!” He exclaims, rising to his feet to try and dash for the door. 

It’s no use. The cell door closes and locks just as he stands up. 

‘ _Fuck.’_ Jaskier thinks. 

Jaskier starts feeling weird the moment the door closes. Something isn’t right. And it’s not just the fact that he’s been imprisoned on a ship by incredibly rude, albeit handsome pirates. 

No, the cell is affecting him somehow. Thinking resourcefully, he tries to shrink back to his normal size to slip between the bars. Except… nothing happens. This cell is making his magic not work. 

Which… uh oh. Jaskier looks down at his clothes that were previously enchanted. “Shit.” He says, watching as they shift back into their original state. His once dark blue and red accented doublet and pants are replaced with a short sleeve shirt that barely covers his stomach and a skirt with matching tights, all in varying shades of green. Even his shoes, which were once fashionable, are now green flats with a white dandelion pom on the top of each one. 

The top leaves very little to the imagination, which makes sense because it’s made of exactly that — leaves. Most traditional fairy clothes are, actually. But tinker fairies are especially known for having foliage-like clothing. 

Jaskier grumbles. He’s always hates this stupid outfit, which is why he enchanted it in the first place. In hindsight, he should have just sewn himself the outfit he wanted. 

But then again, he never pictured himself being put in a cell made of iron and silver on a pirate ship. ‘So much for being prepared for _anything_.’ He thinks. 

And oh how the gods seem to be messing with him now, because who walks into the room other than the daunting captain himself.

Jaskier glares at him, his bright blue eyes following Geralt’s moves as he makes his way around the dimly lit room. He locks the door first, then crosses over to a sturdy mahogany desk and places his blades on it. Jaskier swallows thickly, wondering what Geralt is going to do to him. Even in the low light, the swords glint like a shiny coin to a magpie. 

Geralt takes his jacket off and tosses it haphazardly over his swords, then walks over to the cell where Jaskier is sitting with his arms crossed. 

“My, my… what a pretty little thing you are.” Geralt says, his voice a low timbre. “And what’s this, no fancy bard clothes anymore?” He chuckles, leaning against the bars and looking at Jaskier like he’s a starving man and the younger man is a seven course meal. 

Jaskier’s glare only intensifies. But _holy fuck_ . The shirt Geralt has on is short sleeved and so _tight_ . He can see all of the rippling muscles in his arms and shoulders. ‘ _Oh no he’s hot’_ Jaskier thinks. 

“I’d still have my fancy clothes if you didn’t throw me in a cell that dampens my magic!” He says, his bottom lip pouting out subconsciously. 

Geralt chuckles again, louder this time. “But this outfit is so cute, little lark. It fits you in all the right places and really accentuates how much of a fairy you are.” He says, his voice teasing. 

Jaskier looks up and tries not to blush. Is he- is the captain flirting with him? Judging by the way he’s biting his lip and leaning against the door like he’s about to rip it off, Jaskier is going to guess that he is. 

Geralt hums, then opens the door. “Come here, I want to get a good look at you. I’ve never seen a real fairy before.” He says, backing up to let Jaskier out. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. We’ll treat you right, we just need you to make that dust for us.” He adds, sitting down in a plush chair behind the wooden desk. 

The captain pats his knee and Jaskier has no idea why, but he complies and follows Geralt. He stands next to the desk hesitantly, his hands clasped behind his back. There’s no way he’s going to nuzzle up to the man who just bardnapped him. 

“Oh c’mon, you can come closer than that. I won’t bite… not too hard, anyway.” Geralt says, winking at Jaskier before grabbing his slim bicep and pulling him closer. He sits the smaller man down on his lap and studies his face now that the gap between them is closed. 

Jaskier gasps as he’s pulled and maneuvered so easily. He opens his mouth to protest, but Geralt is so warm and he’s quite cold with what little clothing he has on. He doesn’t fight it, but he stays completely still as he sits on Geralt’s lap, his legs dangling by the side of the chair. 

“There we go, that’s better. Now I can see those pretty lips up close.” Geralt says, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. He brings a gloved hand up and traces over Jaskier’s lips with his index finger. 

Jaskier, torn between blushing and being appalled by the fact that this man thinks he can just touch him whenever he wants, opens his mouth and bites Geralt’s finger. 

“Hmm.” The Captain says, pulling his finger away but not reacting otherwise. “I don’t bite, but it seems _someone_ does. I didn’t know fairies were such brats.” He says, his smirk never quite leaving his face. 

“I didn’t know pirates were such assholes.” Jaskier retorts, then lunges forward to bite Geralt again. 

Geralt had a feeling he was going to do that, so this time he catches Jaskier’s chin between his fingers. “No no, little lark. That’s not going to fly here.” He says, punctuating his words with a firm flick to Jaskier’s mouth. “Biting is only allowed when it’s for pleasure. Not pain.” He says, releasing Jaskier’s chin and sitting back against the chair. 

“Be a good boy and let me admire my newly caught treasure. You can be a good boy, can’t you?” Geralt asks, his voice lowering in a way that makes Jaskier shiver. 

He tries not to blush, he really does. But his fair skin is no help at hiding it. “I- yes… I can be good.” He says, worried about what might happen if he isn’t. 

“Mm, good. I’d hate to have to punish a pretty thing like you.” Jaskier blushes a darker shade of pink. “Hmm, I wonder how far this blush goes…” Geralt thinks out loud, trailing his finger down Jaskier’s face and to his chest. 

Jaskier doesn’t dare to speak. He doesn’t trust that _just_ words would come out of his mouth if he were to open it. 

“So delicate…” Geralt muses, tracing over Jaskier’s protruding collarbones. He shudders involuntarily. Geralt is way too close to his incredibly sensitive neck, far too close for Jaskier’s comfort. Luckily, Geralt’s hand moves down and not up.

He drags his calloused hand down the smooth skin of Jaskier’s arm before slipping under his thin shirt and trailing his hand up his side. Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat. He’s very sensitive there too. It’s one of his favorite places to be grabbed while he’s being- okay, nope. Jaskier’s not going to humor _that_ thought. He will _not_ let himself be horny for a man that’s literally keeping him held captive.

“Buttercup.” Geralt says, which makes Jaskier’s head snap in his direction.

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes and tilts his head. “That’s what Jaskier means, doesn’t it? I kept thinking… Jaskier isn’t a fairy name. But buttercup… that makes sense.” His hand drifts lower, feather-light touches to his inner thigh. The muscles in Jaskier’s legs tense and he stifles a gasp.

“Well, yes actually. Jaskier does mean buttercup. Not many people know that though. Either way, it’s not the name I was originally given. I chose Jaskier for myself.” He says, looking down at his feet. He really hopes Geralt doesn’t ask about his old name.

“I think Jaskier is very fitting… A pretty flower named after a pretty flower.” Geralt says, his voice softer and quieter than it was before. He traces circles on the inside of Jaskier’s thigh with one hand, his other moving up to feel the even smoother skin of his neck.

Geralt leans in close and breathes in Jaskier’s scent. “You smell so good. Like lavender, musk, pine, and sweet wine.” He says, his voice a deep rumble so close to Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier gasps, a quiet noise that Geralt absolutely should not have heard… and yet, “So sensitive…” He says, chuckling when Jaskier squirms. The smaller man tries to hide the… situation quickly rising in his tights by crossing his legs. 

“There’s no use in trying to hide it, Jaskier. I can _smell_ your arousal.” Geralt practically growls, making eye contact with Jaskier. There’s hardly any color in his golden gaze, his pupils blown wide with lust. Jaskier isn’t in much better shape, just barely clinging on to his composure.

“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jaskier finally says, speaking for the first time in what feels like ages. He lies through his teeth, of course. But why on earth would he admit to this man that his cock is hard from his words and gentle petting?

“Oh really?” Geralt asks. And just like that, it’s over for Jaskier. The captain wraps a large hand around Jaskier’s throat and in one swift movement, sits the bard down on his desk. He stands between Jaskier’s legs, keeping his knees spread apart with his body. His fingers tighten, pulling a whimper from the younger man.

“Please.” Jaskier whispers, looking up at Geralt with a newfound desire.

Geralt grins wolfishly, widening his stance to spread Jaskier’s legs further. “Please what, Buttercup? Tell me what you want.” He says, his eyes not leaving Jaskier’s.

Gods, does Jaskier feel like he’s burning to a crip under Geralt’s hot gaze. He doesn’t respond at first, can’t bring himself to say the words. He just whines, begging without words. Geralt’s free hand moves down, down, down until it’s just barely brushing against his tented tights. ‘Fuck fuck fuck’ Jaskier thinks. His cock is so hard that there’s sure to be a wet spot forming in his tights.

“Be a good boy, Jaskier. Use your words.” Geralt commands, his hand just barely cupping Jaskier’s cock.

Something about those words… It's what makes Jaskier crack. “Please touch me, Sir.” He pleads, his voice airy with desperation.

The growl that rips from Geralt’s throat makes his cock twitch, which the older man can’t help but notice. “I’m going to make you sing so pretty, songbird.” Geralt says, then steps back from Jaskier.

The action confuses his lust-riddled brain. No no no, why is Geralt moving _away_ ? He starts to whimper, but yelps in surprise when Geralt takes his skirt and tights in hand and _rips them off_. His cock slaps against his toned stomach once it’s finally freed from its confines.

“Please Sir, please.” Jaskier whimpers as Geralt wraps a hand around his aching cock. He starts stroking slowly, taking time to enjoy the velvety feel of Jaskier’s skin. The contrast between Jaskier’s smooth cock and his rough, sword weathered hand is like heaven to both of them.

Jaskier, as impatient as he is needy, starts rolling his hips into Geralt’s hand. 

“No.” He growls, then unceremoniously shoves his belongings off the desk. He removes his hand from Jaskier’s throat to push him back onto the desk. He pins his slim hips down and starts pumping his cock faster, keeping his grip light.

Jaskier keens, moaning from the increased stimulation. He tries to roll his hips again, but his strength is no match for Geralt’s. He’s pinned, just the way he likes to be.

“Geralt, please.” He says breathily, another moan slipping past his parted lips.

“Please what, little lark?” Geralt asks, but tightens his grip and starts twisting his wrist. Jaskier gasps and moans loudly, his hips jumping from the friction. His eyes slip shut as Geralt keeps stroking his cock. 

Geralt watches as Jaskier’s cock glides through his fist, starting to leak pre-cum as he speeds his hand up. Suddenly and without a word, he stops jerking Jaskier off. 

“No, please! Please Sir please.” Jaskier begs, not wanting the pleasure to stop. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s whimpering as he begs.

Geralt smirks and takes the weeping head of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth. “Oh fuck, Geralt!” He shouts, a loud moan ripping from his throat as Geralt sinks _down down down_ until his cock is fully seated in the back of his throat.

Jaskier has died and gone to heaven, he’s sure of it. Geralt’s throat is too hot and tight and _wet_ for him to not be in heaven. Geralt hums in amusement, which sends shuddering vibrations through Jaskier’s whole body. He starts bobbing his head slowly, feeling the drag of Jaskier’s thick cock on his tongue. 

Jaskier is shuddering, babbling as Geralt speeds up and starts sucking. “That feels so good, fuck.” Jaskier gasps out, moving his hand down to grip Geralt’s hair. Geralt moves up so that just the tip is in his mouth, wrapping his hand around the rest of Jaskier’s cock.

He bobs his head around the tip, licking and sucking obscenely. His hand works in tandem with his mouth, jerking Jaskier off roughly and quickly as he damn near tries to suck his soul out through his cock.

“F-fucking Melitele! Sir please, you’re going to make me cum.” Jaskier moans, pulling Geralt’s hair roughly. 

And as quickly as he said it, Geralt is pulling off of his cock. But he doesn’t give the bard time to protest before he’s picking him up from under his thighs and carrying him over to his large four poster bed. “You sang so pretty, Jaskier… Now let’s see how pretty you scream with my cock inside you.” He says, making quick work of getting his own clothes off. He tosses his boots and shirt across the room, dropping his trousers right where he stands.

Jaskier looks like he might be drooling. He’s definitely staring, that’s for sure. Geralt is standing naked in front of him and _fuck_ is he a sight. He’s almost entirely muscle, covered in various scars, and a light smattering of dark hair across his chest and abdomen.

“Fuck me, fuck me please.” Jaskier says, his voice high and wanting. 

Geralt grunts and points at the bedside table. “Oil is in there, grab it so I can open you up.” He says, but Jaskier doesn’t move.

The bard blushes, then looks away. “Actually um, we don’t need that.” He says. Geralt opens his mouth to protest, because _yes the fuck they do need lube._ But Jaskier continues, “You see, when fairies get aroused they… tend to get wet. All fairies, not just the girl ones.” He explains, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Fuck.” Geralt half moans, then pounces on Jaskier. He crashes his lips into the smaller man’s, claiming his mouth in a deep kiss. Jaskier kisses him back eagerly, parting his lips to let Geralt’s tongue roll against his own. They both moan into it, fighting for dominance until Geralt gets a fist full of Jaskier’s hair and tugs _hard._ Jaskier gasps sharply, the noise breaking into a loud moan. Geralt takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth. 

He groans at the taste of the other man's mouth, then pulls back to breathe. “Do you want my fingers in you first?” He asks, needing to be inside Jaskier but not wanting to hurt him. Jaskier shakes his head quickly.

“No, I’m ready. I need your cock, Sir. Use me, Geralt.” Jaskier says breathlessly, looking at Geralt with shining eyes and spit slicked lips.

That’s all the permission he needs. He pushes Jaskier up the bed and yanks his legs apart, exposing his desperate hole. Geralt takes his cock in hand and looks down and _fuck._ Jaskier wasn’t lying. His pink little hole is wet and glistening with slick. Not only that, it’s also _glittering._ There’s literal specks of glitter in the arousal leaking from his body.

Jaskier’s legs shake in anticipation as he feels the blunt head of Geralt’s cock against his hole. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” He chants, pushing his hips down to try and get Geralt’s cock inside him.

Geralt chuckles at how shameless he is, grabbing Jaskier with a hand under the back of each knee. He thrusts into him with one hard, fast thrust. The moan that leaves Jaskier’s body is punched out and raw. His head rolls back and his lips part as Geralt slowly sinks deeper and deeper, letting him get used to his massive length and girth.

“Fuck. You’re so _tight_ , Jaskier. Taking my cock so well, such a good boy.” Geralt praises, watching as Jaskier blushes and whines high in his throat.

It takes all of his control not to roll his hips or start thrusting when he’s fully sheathed in Jaskier’s ass. He’s so tight and _hot_ inside, he wants to make him scream. 

“If you don’t move, I swear to-” Jaskier starts to say, but then Geralt pulls back and snaps his hips forward and the thought leaves Jaskier’s brain. “Oh fuck _yes_.” He moans as Geralt’s cock slams back into him. 

“Swear to what?” Geralt growls, his grip on Jaskier’s legs tightening so much that he’ll definitely have bruises. He speeds up his thrusts and angles his hips, fucking even deeper into Jaskier’s pliant body. Jaskier shouts, rocking his hips to meet Geralt’s thrusts. His moans are getting louder and more high pitched.

Jaskier can’t think clearly enough to form words. All he can think about is Geralt and how fucking deep his cock is drilling into him.

Geralt isn’t satisfied with that response, so he leans forward until Jaskier’s legs are over his shoulders and he’s effectively bent in half. They both groan at how erotic the position is. Like this, Geralt can claim Jaskier’s mouth in a kiss once more. 

Geralt’s once rhythmic thrusting has been completely abandoned. His restraint is gone, all he can think about is making Jaskier scream his name and come on his cock. He starts rutting into him, hard and rough and so fucking deep. 

“G-Geralt… Oh fu-uck.” Jaskier moans against his lips, his cock leaking pre-cum onto his stomach as it’s trapped between them. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt moans, low and loud as he fucks into his tight ass animalistically. Jaskier chokes on a moan. He knows he’s going to feel this in his ass and pelvis for days. Sitting is going to be a pain, but he doesn’t care. Not a single bit.

Geralt moves down and starts sucking bruises into Jaskier’s unmarked neck, a temporary brand of his ownership. He growls and grips Jaskier’s cheeks in both hands, spreading his ass even wider. This shifts the angle ever so slightly, and now Geralt is fucking right into Jaskier’s prostate.

“Geralt! Fuck, Geralt right there. Don’t stop!” Jaskier screams his pleasure, his moans unabashedly loud and genuine. Geralt certainly does not stop. In fact, he fucks Jaskier _harder_ with an inhumane amount of strength. Jaskier scrambles to hold on to Geralt in any way he can, digging his nails into his shoulders and dragging them down his back.

Geralt groans loudly, a low noise from deep in his chest. He’s not going to last much longer, but he wants to make Jaskier cum first.

“Geralt, Sir can I cum please? I can’t- please let me cum. I’ve been so good. Please!” Jaskier babbles, and _fuck._ Something about Jaskier asking for his _permission_ gets him dangerously close. 

“Cum for me, songbird. You’ve been such a good boy. Cum on my cock, Jaskier. Such a little whore that you don’t even need your cock touched to cum.” Geralt says, his words getting filthier as he gets closer to his own orgasm. 

Jaskier lets out a completely unfiltered whine, his cock twitching hard from Geralt’s words. Geralt keeps drilling Jaskier’s prostate, then bites down _hard_ on his neck. 

That’s what pushes him over the edge. Jaskier’s whole body shakes as his orgasm crashes over him. His red, angry cock twitches and he shouts with his release. “Geralt, Geralt, Geralt.” He gasps as he cums all over both their stomachs, coming so hard that some of it hits his own chin.

It’s Jaskier’s hole clenching and his walls tightening as he orgasms that makes the coil in Geralt’s groin snap. He pulls Jaskier’s hips down flush against his and collapses as he pumps the smaller man full of his cum, moaning loudly as he rolls his hips and rides it out. His orgasm lasts for what feels like hours, but is still over far too soon. 

Jaskier gives a weak, overstimulated whimper when Geralt pulls his softening cock out of his well-used ass. “Empty…” He whines, but is too fucked out to move.

Geralt gets Jaskier out of his ruined shirt as gently as he can without disturbing him, then wraps a strong arm around him and pulls him in close. Jaskier makes a soft noise and cuddles in close to Geralt’s warm body, resting his head on his broad chest and curling into his side.

***

Jaskier realizes he must have fallen asleep, because when he comes to, he doesn’t feel the gross discomfort of dried cum and sweat on his skin. He’s clean and his hair is even a bit damp, which means that Geralt must have cleaned them both up.

Jaskier slowly opens his eyes and sees Geralt, still holding him and looking at him with a soft expression. 

“Hey.” Jaskier says, smiling sleepily.

“Hi.” Geralt says, ever so gently tracing Jaskier’s iridescent wings that are resting against his back.

“You know, if you needed me to cum to collect pixie dust for whatever reason, you could have just asked me.” Jaskier says with a soft, fond chuckle.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to indulge in that prisoner fantasy of yours.” Geralt says, kissing Jaskier gently on the nose.

“Well that’s true…” Jaskier says quietly. “Thank you for doing that. I know it was a… weird request.” He says, suddenly as little self conscious about the whole thing. 

Geralt gently tilts Jaskier’s head and makes him look at him. “Baby, it wasn’t weird at all. You saw how much I loved it too… I’d be more than willing to do it again.” He says, quelling Jaskier’s racing thoughts.

“I love you, songbird.” 

“I love you too, O Captain my Captain.” 

Geralt laughs and kisses Jaskier passionately.

“Oh, and Geralt?” Jaskier asks.

“Yes, my love?” He replies instantly.

“Happy anniversary, dear heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading my first exclusive Geraskier fic! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much and if not more than I enjoyed writing it!  
> I asked folx on my twitter (@LittleBardling) what I should write with a poll that I posted, and Tink!Jaskier/Hook!Geralt won the poll! I've had this idea for a while, and it was so fun to actually do.
> 
> Did anyone see that ending coming?


End file.
